Unchained Memories
by KatyEllen
Summary: Hermione has been waking to the rememberance of gruesome, undecipherable nightmares she has been having concerning her two best friends. But out of all the complications, one simple question remains: Are they real? RHR
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note: **First of all, thanks goes to you all for even taking your time to look at my story. I have good things in store for this and I hope it goes over well. This chapter is a rather short one, but the others will be longer, I promise. I wouldn't suggest reading my other stories, I'm not too proud of them. Although, I would greatly appreciate it if you could review after you read. After all, if you hate it, your suggestions can make it better. ;) And if you love it, I'd be overjoyed to recieve some lovely comments. :) So, with no further ado, on with the show.

**Disclaimer: **Only the plot I own. Everything else belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling.

_Unchained Memories_: Chapter One: _Phantasma or Permonition?_

Why was he running away from her? Pushing his way through a crowd of complete strangers. These people he was trudging his way through, certainly were an odd bunch. About 300 people all cramped in this little hall, donning evening wear. "Excuse me", this girl repeated every time she squirmed her way through the crowd. She was surprised that nobody responded, but that wasn't what mattered now. What did matter was getting to him. She didn't know why, but he was leaving her alone with these odd people. Why would he do this? He knew that it's such a risk to single out your friends at times like this, he's usually so protective of her. It seemed as if she reached a dead end. The crowd was still there, but something was keeping her from going ahead. He's not that way. A little voice inside her head, (instinct, perhaps?), told her. Where do I go then? She turned around as much as she could muster, as she was squished in between a pudgy lady with red hair nicely done in a bun and an old man with a cane. What she saw amazed her. A different way. And none of these quiet people were on this path. Rickety, gray, dusty stairs in this elegant hall were certainly out of place, they even seemed a bit unsafe to go upon, but that thought was wiped from her mind as a splash of red was seen through one of the banisters. Quickly, the girl traipsed through the sea of vegetables, manners forgotten, she might've even knocked someone down, but why should she be the one out of hundreds to help him? This boy was the only person that mattered now. Finally she reached the stairs and knew she had to hurry, he had a head start. It was odd, really. She thought she was running, but she wasn't tiring, and she wasn't moving her legs. She was gliding. Odd, she thought. But if this benefited her very much so, why should she complain? Time was going too slowly, for who knew what kind of maze or complicated path these stairs led to? But time halted for how long, she didn't know, when she saw her desideratum laying face down on the ground. "Ron?" She ran, (really ran) towards him, kneeled down, and flipped him over. Something was wrong and she knew it, but when his face tore into a smile, her heart melted and she knew that everything would be all right. "Oh, Ron. I love you so much." She cradled his head and hugged him, but something was going terribly wrong. He was stiffening and not hugging her back. Had she been too straightforward? "Ron? I am so sor-" she started to say as she was lessening her grasp. She halted for the most disturbing thing she would ever witness was about to ensue her. Ron, was…he was disintegrating. He was still smiling, but his teeth started to rot and decay. His eyeballs were rolling uncontrollably in their sockets, as if they had somewhere more important to be. The hand that the girl was now holding was shriveling up. The life was getting sucked out of him. The girl gasped and backed away, what was happening? Why was he dying? How was he dying? In desperation the girl looked over the banister to the crowd of people and screamed "Help me! Somebody please help!" In unison all of the inhabitants of the room snapped their head upward and stared at the girl. They all bore the same appearance that Ron did now, and the broke into the same crooked smile. The only difference is that these people meant nothing to her. What does it matter what happened to them, Ron was dead. This was indeed terrifying, but when the girl looked at the woman she previously bumped into, she bore an uncanny resemblance to Mrs. Weasley. The girl broke into an earsplitting scream.

Thousands of light years away Hermione Granger sat upright in her bed, beads of sweat drenching her night robes, the memories drenching all common sense.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** The word "disclaimer" says it all.

**Author's Note: **This is the second installment of _Unchained Memories_. _Please _review. I've gotten 124 hits and 2 reviews. I would love if I even got a two word review. Please, It makes me happy.

Chapter 2: Truths and Finality

It was the middle of the night at the Granger household, all lights and noises extinguished. All but the soft tapping of fingernails against a wooden writing desk. Hermione Granger was sitting in her father's study. She was rarely allowed in there, but the room had an aura of comfort, a feeling that came too infrequently in the wizarding world she was so accustomed to. But tonight was different. The wall-high bookshelves that would administer hours of occupation now left foreboding shadows all along the floors and partly on Hermione's pink nightrobe.

She's been sitting at this desk for hours, at least debating on how to take action on this nightmare. Perhaps this was a forewarning, similar to the many Harry has had. Except, Hermione was very doubtful that this was an image from Voldemort himself. Why would You-Know-Who target Hermione, and besides, that dream would make much more sense if it were a premonition. She wouldn't have been gliding, and she would have hardly been as clueless as to notice a room brimming with Inferi. Perhaps, Ron hadn't been running away from her at all, and that he meant to have her follow him. Yes, that must've been it. But why would he start to decay? As the sun rose up, Hermione had to settle on an answer, so quickly dubbed the dream a childish (but quite graphic) nightmare. She still had the feeling of apprehension, but quickly shook it off. Today was going to be a better day.

She hadn't planned on it, but decided to go to the Burrow a few days early. She feared that staying home longer would just make the parting much more difficult. So, stretching and quietly closing the door to the study, she went upstairs.

Dawn was breaking, yet Hermione hadn't the slightest symptom of drowsiness. Careful not to wake her parents, she quietly got dressed in a pair of muggle jeans, a green shirt and white sandals. Then, she started to pack all her bags. She stood up and did a look-over of her room to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. Ignoring what Moody had told her she picked up her wand and stuck it in her back pocket. Then, taking care to pack _Hogwarts: A History _with her other schoolbooks, she gave a small sad laugh as she realized what she was doing. She wouldn't have any need for any of her school things, for she wasn't returning to Hogwarts, ever. Holding back tears for another time, Hermione stood solemnly over her extra luggage. Who knew not having to carry sixty extra pounds of books would upset someone so greatly?

It was now late morning and Hermione had been sure she heard her mother cooking breakfast. She started to lug her suitcases down the stairs and saw her mother emerge from under the staircase with a jug of juice in her hands. Smiling, she said, "Quick-starting your packing, dear?" Inhaling a deep breath and not responding to this comment Hermione simply said, "Mother, we need to talk."

Hermione had not mentioned a single thing of school to her parents. She told all the fun things, teachers, new spells, Harry, Ron, Quidditch, but never had she ever felt the need to burden her parents with such problems of being in mortal peril.

Her father had already left for work, so telling her mother was only half the battle. She decided to finish the other half in a note. Telling her mother had been awful, her eyes went wide with fear more than once and when she told the story of the last battle and Dumbledore, she swore she was about to faint. "Mum, I have to go help Harry. I can't leave him, and even if I don't go" (she put up a hand here to silence her mother who was about to interrupt) "I'll be leaving you and Dad in even more danger. By doing this mum, I'm going to help save the world." By saying this, not only her mother, but also Hermione realized the pertinence of this mission.

This wasn't just about saving Harry, or her family. This wasn't about just getting revenge on Voldemort. This wasn't about filling a prophecy. This was about everyone else. This was about the creator of Chocolate Frogs, the muggle children that disobey their elders, the dogs and blast-ended-skrewts of the earth. Three teenagers had the world in their hands.

Hugging her mother, going to the fireplace, and not even taking one last look at her favorite pillow or the study or even her mother, Hermione said into the fireplace, "The Burrow."

_End Chapter._

Please review.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Hey, I know this is listed under Ron/Hermione romance and I'm sorry if the first chapter set you off. But I promise this chapter will change that. I am disappointed in the lack of reviews from last chapter. I really want to know how I'm doing here! lol. Please, please, please review!

**Disclaimer:** Yeah, I own only the plotline. So sue me. But, ha, now you can't:P

Chapter 3: Arrivals and Tension. (Just a bit)

She arrived at the Burrow, tumbling out of the fireplace into the family room. Coughing, she started to brush the soot off of her jeans. She was still facing the fireplace, so when she turned around to face the room, she felt her face flush a brilliant red as she saw who occupied the room.

Fluer was sitting on the couch surrounded by scatterings of _Witch Weddings _magazine clippings, newspaper articles, wedding planning books – _Fluer can read? _Hermione thought in spite of herself. - And the Weasleys. Fred, George, Bill, Mrs.Weasley, Arthur, Charlie, Ginny, Ron and even Gabrielle. They were all string at her, a few of them smiling, looking as if they were waiting for something amazing to happen. Fluer on the other hand, looked absolutely furious. Her usually pale face turned a violent shade of russet and her eyes bore into Hermione's as if wanting to burn the very flesh of her bones. Hermione tore her gaze away from Fluer, without much effort and said, "Well, hel-"

"MY PHOTGRAPHZ!" interrupted Fluer absolutely trembling with anger.

"What?" Hermione said jerking her head around.

"I'VE BEEN LAYING ZESE OU' PERFE'TLY ALL ZE DAY LONG!"

"Oh?" Hermione responded completely unaware of what was happening. She turned around for some help from Ginny who just bowed her head and stared to rub her temples. This was what they were waiting for- the Perfect Storm.

Fluer, seemingly overflowing with enragement stood up and shoved a photo in Hermione's face. "Do you zee what you've done now?" Fluer's voice was low and hateful. Her face was contorted and the flush in her cheeks and the bulging of her eyes made her seem as much a veela as a mule.

Hermione went to take the photograph out of Fluers hand but she yanked it away. "Don't touch!" Looking closely, Hermione noticed that it was a photo of a girl in a silver bridesmaids dress. She only could just make it out because the photo was covered in soot. "I'm sorry, Fluer, you know I didn't mean it." Fluer looked disgusted with Hermione's excuse. "There are no excuzes!" Apparently, she was. "Fluer- it's laminated. Can't you just…wash it off?" The flush melted right off of her face and she was now more pale than ever. "Wash-wash eet off? WASH IT OFF!" Now, she was back to looking like an oversized tomato. She started to go into a rampage about all the work she had to do, just because she was the bride. Hermione started as she felt a hand surround her forearm.

"Let's get out of here while we still can." A voice whispered into her ear. Hermione smiled inwardly-she'd know that voice anywhere. "Great idea, Ron." They slowly backed away as to go upstairs unnoticed. Hermione bent down for her suitcase, but it wasn't where she left it. Not daring to move her head, her peripheral vision noticed that Ron had it in his left hand. _Such a gentlemen. _"Hurry up, Hermione, she's bound to notice us sometime. Don't be such a snail." _Well, sometimes._ "Shut up Ronald." That wasn't a whisper and Fluer noticed it as well as Hermione. "Run." Ron said. _Well, at least he has some sense in him. _

They scrambled up he stairs, Ron being a little slower than Hermione as he had her trunk. "Where to?" Hermione said, not turning around when reaching the top. "My room." Ron responded. _Second door on the right. _Hermione entered to find nothing at all unchanged. Same orange paint, same four-poster bed, same messy floor and unmade bed. Hermione turned around to her best friend's panting to make a snide comment about his laziness, but was stopped in her tracks. This is the first time she's looked at Ron properly since she came. His appearance changed dramatically since her last seeing him. He looked slightly drawn, maybe even ill, but he still looked as handsome as ever. Leaving out the troubling things about his new appearance, he looked rather dashing. Despite the paleness and tiredness of his face and eyes _(rolling uncontrollably)_, he looked determined-like he was really pumping himself up for this Death-Eater murdering they had to endure rather soon.

_(Or the death of himself.)_

He smiled at her _(and his teeth started to rot and decay) _and she smiled back. "Anything wrong, 'Mione?" Hermione shook herself lightly. "No, why do you ask?"

"You look a bit…troubled."

"I'm fine, Ron."

"You sure?" he added unnecessarily. Hermione didn't care how unnecessary it was, though. It was sweet.

"I have to be." She said, and before he could say another word gave him a hug and a quick peck on the cheek and asked him how his summer has been going.


End file.
